All my life I have had the utmost admiration for suicides. I have always considered them superior to me in every way.

The art we need is the art of bearing the unbearable.

Everyone, he went on, speaks a language he does not understand, but which now and then is understood by others. That is enough to permit one to exist and at least to be misunderstood.

You are never truly together with one you love until the person in question is dead and actually inside you.

Very often we write down a sentence too early, then another too late; what we have to do is write it down at the proper time, otherwise it's lost.

In theory we understand people, but in practice we can't put up with them, I thought, deal with them for the most part reluctantly and always treat them from our point of view. We should observe and treat people not from our point of view but from all angles, I thought, associate with them in such a way that we can say we associate with them so to speak in a completely unbiased way, which however isn't possible, since we actually are always biased against everybody.

The anger and the brutality against everything can readily from one hour to the next be transformed into its opposite.